Welcome to Beacon Hills
by DeathsLights
Summary: Thank God for all the murders in this town. Wait-that made him sound a little psychotic. No, he was just appreciative of the sudden openings left in the wake of...deaths. Shit that didn't sound any better.
1. Chapter 1

**So apparently I can't stop myself from writing for this fandom...**

**Anyway I would like to thank my lovely beta Kittiekatt for editing this! She's awesome, AWESOME!**

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**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 1:** **Mr. Stilinski**

Stiles unloaded his jeep, getting out all of his boxes. He cracked his back; damn it, he was not a decrepit man. He was a perfectly healthy 22 year old male. He should not be hobbling like a geriatric man. Or holding his back like a pregnant woman. Fucking boxes and moving companies that cost way more than they should.

He sighed and turned to look at his house. It was an old, small, suburban, two storied single family home with had an open backyard that fenced off the woods. All in all it wasn't bad. Sure it was a bit washed out, rusted in some places, paint peeling off in others, but it was sturdy and reliable...and he had to move and unpack all the boxes. By. Himself.

Fuck his life.

-.-.-.-.-

Well his new house was relatively unpacked...okay he unpacked what he needed for tomorrow, just the bare essentials. The rest could wait.

Stiles looked around and felt a sharp pain in his chest, an ache deep within. He should have been used to an empty house with his father always working long hours, pulling doubles, and sometimes never actually coming home. But this, this was different. With his dad, there were signs of someone else; an empty cup in the sink, plates left on the table, half eaten muffins. Little residues; reminders of another's existence. Now he had to live on his own while his dad was in another state by himself. Stiles frowned. Who would look after his dad's eating habits? Watch his cholesterol levels? Force him to eat his fruits and vegetables?

His phone rang sharply, startling him out of his trance. He quickly picked it up. "I'm starting to think this wasn't a good idea."

"_...Stiles, you were the one that wanted to work in a town where a murder occurs practically every day. I told you not to. Hell I pleaded with you not to."_

"That's not it! I'm worried about you! Who's going to hound you about your eating habits? Who's going to stock the fridge full of healthy food? Who's going to scare all the local food joints into not giving you fatty, greasy, artery clogging food? Also not everyday- two point five murders every two weeks."

"_I knew you were the reason I couldn't get a burger anymore! Damn it Stiles! A man needs his meat...and kid, it's not normal to know the number of murders happening in a town by percentage."_

Stiles scoffed. "Please! like I was ever _normal_. I'll be fine dad. Nowhere else would even consider hiring me and this is a chance to get some experience. In a few years I can look for a job closer to where you are."

A tired sigh could be heard through the phone. "_I know kid but I worry about you. You tend to be a handful."_

Stiles smiled softly. "It's inherited."

John laughed. "_I pity Beacon Hills already."_

"Hey! Anyone would be happy to have me! They should feel honoured to be graced with my awesome presence."

"_Whatever you say son. I've got to go; cases are starting to pile up. Try not to get into too much trouble."_

"No promises dad."

"_Had to give it a try. Goodbye son, I love you."_

"I love you too, Dad." He stared down at his phone for a long time before sighing and putting it back into his pocket. Stiles glanced around his new home and felt his chest clench tighter. Fresh air, yeah, that's what he needed right now. He made his way to the back door and pulled it open, stepping outside.

The wind blew rustling and swaying the trees beyond the iron gated property line, leaves fluttered and blades of grass moved the wind powerful enough to make the trees groan and creak. Stiles pulled his hoodie closer to his body, shivering. He frowned and pressed himself closer together wasn't California supposed to be warm during the fall?

His head snapped up as he heard a noise. He squinted his eyes, peering at the forest trying to see better. Although his eyes had adjusted to the absence of light, it was still too dark to actually make anything out. He looked at the tree line for a few minutes but heard nothing further. He shrugged and turned to make his way back inside.

Stiles froze. His hand inches away from the door handle as he heard the noise once again, only this time it was clearer and he could actually classify what it was.

A howl.

A wolf's howl.

He quickly spun around and turned, scanning the yard, only this time he saw a flash of yellow, no, -_flashes, _of yellow, and blue. Were those _eyes? _The weird thing though-these flashes fucking glowed, actually glowed, in the dark and were distinctly human shaped. He was pretty damn share that; 1) California did _not_ have wolves, hadn't had them in years; and 2) wolves' eyes did _not_ glow and they did _not_ have human shaped eyes.

See now any normal person probably would have walked away and gone inside, pushing whatever they had seen to the back of their mind. But see, here's the thing, he's Stiles; he's not normal and he can't leave things alone. He has to solve puzzles or he'll go crazy...okay...crazier. Which is why he jumped over the gate and walked into the forest looking for the glowing eyes and possibly his death.

Stiles paused as he entered the forest, glancing around, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He stopped as he noticed something sticking out off the tree in front of him. He walked a little closer to get a better look.

"...Is that a fucking _arrow_?"

He reached forward, pulling it out, he twisting it in his hands, and yeah, that was definitely an arrow. He looked up skywards. "Seriously? Plain murders weren't enough? Now you have to add a bow and arrow?" Stiles shook his head and turned. He looked around for a few minutes but found no trace of anyone or the glowing eyes. He turned to go back inside, but he stopped as he noticed something glint by his feet. He bent down and picked it up, brushing bits of dirt aside. He frowned. "Keys. So along with a psychotic person with a serious medieval weapons fetish, we have someone whose lost their keys... " Stiles shrugged and pocketed the keys. He turned and walked back home.

-.-.-.-.-

Stiles looked up at his new place of employment Beacon Hills High School. The school itself was absurdly huge; it looked more like a boarding school than a public high school, not to mention the whole creepy horror movie vibe it had going on. Well, he had no choice; it was this or nothing.

Thank God for all the murders in this town. Wait-that made him sound a little psychotic. No, he was just appreciative of the sudden openings left in the wake of...deaths. Shit that didn't sound any better. But you couldn't blame him being 22 years old with a teaching degree didn't exactly yield openings, even if you had skipped a few grades.

"Stilinski! What the hell are you doing over there, gawking like a moron?!"

Stiles flailed and quickly turned around. "Mr. Finstock...hey..."

Finstock narrowed his eyes. "I told you, you either call me Coach or Coach Finstock, otherwise don't call me at all. Except you Greenberg you don't call me period."

Stiles looked around the empty parking lot in confusion. "Um..."

Coach grabbed Stiles and yanked him along. "Come on. We don't have time! We have to make these moronic kids less moronic! Or at least get our pay checks...thank God we don't get paid based on their grades because then we'd be begging out on the streets."

The younger man struggled to keep up, almost tripping as Finstock practically dragged him into the school.

-.-.-.-.-

Stiles sighed. He had managed to get through most of the day; only his last period remained. Ugh. Why were teenagers so fucking stupid? And then there was Coach Finstock who had 'taken him under his wing because it was pathetic to let a grown man be trampled by teenagers'. He was not kidding the man had used those exact words as he manhandled Stiles. There was unnecessary rough handling and pulling that he would very much never like to part of again. Ever.

He glanced up as the bell rang and his last period class all trickled in. He took a deep breath and got up from behind his desk, smiling brightly. "I could give you all some speech about the traumatic events that have been plaguing your town and offer you condolences and sympathy, but that would just waste time. I don't have time for bullshit. I'm here to teach and that's what I'm going to do."

He looked over the silent class, all of the teenagers wide-eyed and gaping. He nodded. "Alright, now that that's out of the way, I guess I'll introduce myself. I'm Mr. Stilinski and I'm going to teaching you World Mythology for this semester." He gave a little wave to the students. "So if you have any questions or concerns or if you'd just like to ask me something then go ahead."

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the room. He nodded as a student raised her hand and reached behind him to grab his water bottle, opening it and taking a sip. The blonde, scantily dressed student grinned, displaying white teeth. "I just wanted to know if you're willing to teach _after hours,_" she purred, leaning over her desk, flaunting her cleavage.

Stiles choked spitting out water. He quickly wiped his mouth and turned to look at the girl. What. The. Fuck?

Behind her, several students groaned, a dark haired boy hissed, "Erica don't."

Erica smirked. "Danny let me have some fun. Sooooo, Mr. Stilinski how old are you?"

Stiles coughed a little. "I don't see how that is relevant Ms..."

"_Erica_." She purred out seductively.

He looked down at the attendance list on his desk. "Ms. Reyes."

Erica smiled innocently."Just curious, like everyone else."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I'm 22 actually."

At this the heads of several students snapped up in attention. A shaggy haired boy with a slightly uneven jaw blinked in awe. "You must be a genius!"

The teacher grinned. "And you are?"

The teenager smiled warmly. "I'm Scott! Scott McCall!"

Stiles eyes softened and yeah, he just found his favourite, shut up, he was allowed to have one. "Well Scott, I'm not a genius. I just skipped a few grades," he said as he winked.

"If you're so smart how come you're working _here_?" A blond haired boy sneered as he smugly looked at Stiles.

Stiles's eyes narrowed. "You are?"

The blond smirked. "Jackson Whittemore."

The little shit. "Well, Jackson, skipping a few grades in this economy doesn't mean anything, hence the reason why I'm here. But I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Jackson's face reddened as several people laughed. He whirled around and growled at the boys behind him. "Shut the fuck up Isaac! It's not funny McCall!"

The curly haired boy laughed harder. "No way t-this is just too hilarious!"

Scott leaned over and clutched Isaac's shoulder. "This is just awesome!"

"Language, Mr. Whittemore, unless you'd like a detention."

Erica practically purred. "Oh I'd like a detention."

The dark haired girl next to her glared. "Erica stop it!" she chastised.

"Come on Allison, just look at him. He's good enough to _devour_."

No. Just no. Stiles smirked. "Well then Ms. Reyes, if you want a detention so badly-"

Erica leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, "Oh I do."

"I'm sure Mr. Finstock would love to have you."

Instantly Erica hunched down into her seat, wide eyed. The students all burst into laughter.

"Oh, sweetheart that was just sad."

Erica turned to glare at the girl behind her. "Shut up Lydia."

The red head smiled coldly as she glossed her lips, ignoring the growling blond before her.

"Erica." The boy next to Lydia said quietly, keeping his eyes focused on the book in front of him as he spoke.

The blond pouted. "But Boyd I-"

"Leave her alone. Erica." He said quietly as he flipped to the next page in his book.

Erica deflated into her seat. "Fine," she muttered, perturbed.

The tanned boy, Danny, looked up at Stiles remorsefully. "I'm sorry Mr. Stilinski. Jackson and Erica didn't mean to insult you or make you uncomfortable. They..."

"That's just how they are. It takes some time to get used to them, sir." The girl beside Erica, Allison, said as she smiled at him.

Stiles grinned. "Well, we have a semester together. I hope that's enough time otherwise I'm going to end up with a drinking problem at the end of the year."

All the students laughed warmly. Stiles smiled, well this wasn't going too badly.

The rest of the class went by smoothly as he answered a few questions and then handed out a class syllabus, and gave the class an overview of what to expect for the coming semester.

He tilted his head as the shrill bell signalling the end of the school day rung. Stiles turned and waved to his students. "Get going guys." The students sprang up, all animatedly chatting with each other as they collected their things, all leaving the class grinning.

Stiles turned to his desk and started to collect his papers, shoving them into his laptop bag hazardously.

"Scott I didn't see your bike today. Where is it?"

Scott sighed, dejected. "I lost the keys to my bike last night, I had to walk all the way here in the morning."

Jackson sneered. "Nice going McCall."

"Shut up Jackson."

Allison smiled warmly and gently grasped Scott's shoulder. "Do you remember where you could have lost them?"

Scott frowned. "I think it was last night when we were...you know where."

"We're going back tonight. Maybe we'll find them." Boyd stated quietly.

Scott nodded his shoulders drooping. "I hope so man. If not then I'm going to be walking to school forever once my mom finds out and locks my bike up because I'm so irresponsible." He said as he grabbed his backpack and walked towards the door.

Stiles paused, his hand automatically reaching into his back pocket. He looked down at his hand. "Scott."

Scott looked back. "Yes Mr. Stilinski?" Scott's hand instinctively reached out and caught what was thrown at him. He tilted his head and opened his hand. "My keys!"

Stiles's eyes narrowed. "Scott, where did you lose your keys?"

The teenagers in the room froze. Scott's head jerked up, his eyes darting around the room nervously "Um...I don't really remember. I mean, you probably found them in the school right? I lost would I remember _where_ I lost them right? But thanks Mr. Stilinski for finding them! I've got lacrosse practice so I'm going to go. Bye! See you!" With that Scott fled. He's not kidding the teen actually legitimately _fled_. From Stiles. The most non-threatening person to ever exist. He was sure Greenberg was more threatening and he wasn't even sure Greenberg was _real_.

He turned to look at the remaining students, his eyebrow raised in question. Jackson scowled. "Fucking McCall."

Danny elbowed Jackson in the side while grinning up at him. "Coach makes us run suicides if we're late, that's why Scott was in such a rush to get out of here. You've met Coach Finstock right?"

Stiles grimaced. "Yes, yes I have."

Isaac nodded and gripped his backpack tighter. "I guess we should get going then. Nobody wants to deal with more of Coach then they have to."

"You're all on the lacrosse team?"

"Yeah, we're all first string and I'm the captain," Jackson said with a gleam of pride.

"And Scott is co-captain, which you seem to keep forgetting Jackson," Isaac said as he smugly stared at Jackson.

"Lahey I'll deal with you on field."

"Okay now guys that's enough. Don't you have practice to get to?"

The teenagers nodded and slowly left the room with a chorus of "Goodbye, Mr. Stilinski."

Stiles watched their retreating backs for a few moments before he turned to resume shoving his papers back into his bag. He wasn't sure who they had been trying to fool with their poor deflective skills or their pitiful attempts at lying but there was no doubt they had been hiding _something_.

The question was did he really want to find out what that something was?


	2. Chapter 2

**Edited by my lovely beta Kittiekatt : ).**

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**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 2: Puzzles **

Stiles managed to get to his jeep without the interference of the teachers or students, small miracles. Alright perhaps not miracles, more like him keeping to the back halls and then escaping out through the back door, but would you blame him? If you had to deal with Coach Finstock; and teenagers questioning you about the most irrelevant, inane things you'd run as well.

But the student that took the prize for the most uncomfortable questioning session of his life (including the ones from his deputy father) was Erica Reyes. Stiles shuddered. That was borderline sexual harassment. That was the thing–the way she was–it seemed_...predatory_, as in a predator hunting prey, and it made him feel defensive for his virtue and his body parts. At the same time.

Okay, he was not going to follow that thought pattern through. Stiles opened the door of his jeep, tossed his bag into the back, and then sat in the car, slowly leaving the parking lot still clustered by teenagers.

Later that night as he was drying his hair with his towel, he paused as he saw his laptop, he could look into a few things. He sat down in front of the laptop and stared at it, chewing his thumbnail. If he did this, there was no going back. He chewed on his bottom lip. There was a puzzle, perhaps multiple ones, in this town, potentially deadly–

Ah fuck it.

He opened the computer and waited for the screen to load. He logged in, his fingers flying over the keys as he typed. It was illegal and his dad was probably going to kill him for this, but he needed to figure this out. His dad would understand, there were kids –his students–involved in something. But there was _something_ wrong with this town, _something dark_. It was this pressure that had settled over his chest since he had entered this town. At first he tried to ignore it, but it grew and now it weighed heavily on him. A sense of dread, of pain and fear, the same he had when his mother had gotten ill. An illness, this town was sick with something. It sounds stupid, insane, _doesn't_ make sense but the feeling is there and it won't go away. Maybe if he figures things out, if he looks a little bit, the weight will disappear or at least not press so heavily against his chest.

He stared at the Beacon Hills Police Department's homepage and cracked his knuckles. It was time for some good old hacking.

-.-.-.-.-

Stiles looked at the reports spread out in front of him, eyes wandering from sheet to sheet as the timeline vaguely formed in his head. He quickly grabbed a pen and jotted down the dates of the murders and all the relevant information. Once he was done he stepped back and read over everything he had written. Around the time Laura Hale's body was discovered, the murders started, animal attacks apparently, and then Peter Hale goes missing, Lydia Martin is attacked, Isaac Lahey is arrested, Jackson Whittemore gets a restraining order, Erica and Boyd run away, oh and Derek Hale is arrested for the murder of his sister.

What the fuck was wrong with this town?

He chewed on his pen cap. So, the deaths in Beacon Hills started around the time that Laura Hale was–no. He shook his head. The deaths in this town started before that. The Hale fire. And that's why this was so weird. One of the last three remaining Hales dies, another goes missing, and the other is arrested for his own sister's death. Doesn't it seem like they were targeted? For an entire generation to be almost wiped out can't be a coincidence. Even the fire itself makes no sense. Nine people died– all found in the basement. Why were they there? The reports of the fire themselves were so unclear, vague, disjointed, had no significant information pertaining to the fire. Why was that? Then one of the deaths in town was the insurance inspector of that very same fire. There was no way that was a coincidence. Laura Hale comes into town, dies, her brother gets arrested, people start dying, and then her uncle goes missing.

Did _no one_ in this town find that suspicious?

Seriously, one of the last remaining Hales dies, one goes missing, _when he's comatose!_ And the other is arrested for his own sister's death. HOW IS THAT NOT WEIRD?!

He roughly ran his fingers through his hair, pulling lightly. Animal attacks is what they blamed it on, but the history of the area clearly states that there haven't been any animal attacks in years, 60 years to be exact. There is a remote possibility that it was actually an animal attack, but the likelihood of that, coinciding with Laura Hale's return was too much to be simply a probability.

Then there were his students; Jackson Whittemore, who previously had a restraining order against Scott McCall, but they are now friends? At the very least, he hangs out with the very person he filed the order against. Then all the delinquents bond together? And become friends?

Also, the glowing eyes in the forest and the howls.

His fingers twitched. So many puzzles to be solved. Stiles grinned. At least he wasn't going to be bored in this town.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles got into the lunch line, glancing around the cafeteria aimlessly, his gaze wandering until it stopped on a table near the back. Huh, they all sat at lunch together, there had to be a way to gain information on–"Oh my god!" Stiles almost dropped his lunch tray, his arms practically straining, what the fuck? He turned back to look at the tray in his hands and almost threw it away from himself. There was a blood red, congealed substance in his tray, he was sure it bubbled, oozed and did it just _hiss_ at him? He reeled back and looked up at the lunch lady and smiled although he was sure it looked more like grimace but hey his mother had raised a polite ass gentleman, so he thanked her. At least the fruit looked good. He grabbed a bunch of fruit, a pudding cup, and a bottle of water. After paying for everything, he wandered down the tables looking for a seat.

Stiles stopped and turned around as he came across Coach. He smirked. Would you look at that? He'd found a way to gain information. "Hey Coach, you mind if I sit with you today?"

Finstock stared at him for a moment and narrowed his eyes, chewing slowly. "Sure, Stilinski."

The younger man nodded in thanks and slid into the seat. Stiles looked around, his eyes stopping on the table that housed the teens in question. "So what can you tell me about those kids? The ones on the lacrosse team? Um, what were their names? The two team captains and their gang?"

Finstock eyed him strangely for a few seconds. "Why are you asking?"

Stiles shrugged and popped a strawberry into his mouth. "They're in my last period class, and, well, I had an...interesting encounter with them," he coughed uncomfortably.

Coach nodded. "You met Erica huh?"

He sighed. "You could say that."

"Hard to believe the girl was sick a year ago, used to get seizures, good for her, she's showing all those assholes who'd harass her."

Stiles' eyes widened, he leaned forward, interested. "You mean she just suddenly got better?"

Finstock nodded. "Yeah, probably some drug trial or something. Then there's the McCall kid. He was severely asthmatic, couldn't even keep up at practice, then all of a sudden he's doing fucking back-flips like a god damn gymnast on the field."

"What about the others?"

"Hell if I know. I remember that the Lahey kid used to be scared of his own shadow, then he grew a backbone, got all tough, Boyd, I can't say I remember him too much, kid was quiet, didn't have too many friends, works down at the rink. That's all I really know."

"When did Scott get better? Erica?"

Coach eyed him oddly. "I can't say I remember, probably around the tryouts last year."

Stiles edged closer, vibrating with excitement. "Around the time the first body was found right? Laura Hale's body, right?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, was probably around then, and Erica probably around the string of murders, that's around the time those kids all started hanging around each other." Finstock looked down at Stiles' tray. "You gonna eat that?"

Stiles shook his head and pushed his tray towards the other man, and watched in disgust as Finstock struck his spoon into the red goo and ate it. He almost dry heaved, he quickly looked away. "I'll see you later Coach, I'm going to head on out."

Coach grunted and continued to eat. Stiles got up, grabbed his water bottle and left the cafeteria. So Scott and Erica mysteriously get better, their illnesses go away, they all start hanging out...and all of this occurs within the time period that all the deaths started happening. Something happened within that time, something that cured them and brought them together, and it wasn't drug trials. There were some cases where symptoms went away but for two to suddenly occur? And when murders were happening couldn't be a mere coincidence. Now all he had to figure out was what had happened during that time and he'd at least have solved one puzzle in this town.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles glanced up, his pen dangling from his mouth as his last class trickled in. He grinned up at them, waving them inside. He spat out his pen and stood. "So I know I talked a little bit about the course yesterday but I want to continue on that part. I know that this class may not be important or relevant to some of you. You may have taken this class because you needed a credit or you may actually be interested in mythology. I honestly am fine with that, but I want you to understand one thing. I'm doing this because I love it, because I have an obsession for it and I want you to respect that. I don't want you to be half assed because you think it's easy. I want this class to be different, for it to be interesting and fun, but I need all of you to understand that I'm not going to accept half hearted attempts at bullshit done the day before because you don't feel like this class is worth your time. That's disrespectful and I'm not going to tolerate that, understood?"

The students quickly nodded.

He smiled. "Good, now I talked about a project before that is going to be worth a major part of your grade, I know I'm talking about it now, even though it's due towards the end of the semester, and all of you are going to wait till the end to start, because–" he leaned forward and looked around whispering, "I'm guilty of that too. Honestly, teachers bullshit when they tell you they were on top of their work and they finished things weeks before they were due, that's a big fat lie. Trust me on that."

The students all cracked smiles and laughed.

"So yeah project, you can be in groups of let's say seven to eight people making around four to five large groups, I know lots of people but this way you'll have so many little brains, with different takes, different ideas and you'll be able to make a unique project. More fun. You can pick; gods, demons, angels, creatures, I don't care but what I don't want you to do is romanticize the idea, like they've been doing these days."

His nose scrunched in disgust. "Like with Twilight, Vampire Dairies, whatever other shit there is, I want you to go back to the time where these things, these creatures, scared you, were things of beauty, when they were outside of the human realm of understanding. I want you to go back decades, hundreds–even thousands of years–when these supernatural beings were feared yet respected. I want you to go back when you were afraid of the things under your bed. I want you to tell me why? Why were you so scared? I want you to go back when these beautiful, fearsome creatures weren't this idealized, romanticized thing where they have lost their value of that they were meant to be. Deterrents, morals, lessons, warnings, when they astounded you with their beauty, when their grotesque nature made you afraid of the dark, and kept you awake at night. Why do we feel so drawn to them? Why do they contain this aspect of humanity, where we can see ourselves in these creatures? I want you to take something from one region, one country, one continent and compare it to another. Tell me about their differences, the similarities, the emotions they invoke within you, whether it's love, fear, hate, repulsion, tell me why? Don't just give me baseless information, I want more than just facts." Stiles glanced around the room. "And I swear if I see Edward Cullen on any of the presentations, I will walk out and I will never return." He grinned. "Now go, get into groups, discuss, you don't have to plan anything, I want you guys to take in what I've said, just talk. Tomorrow we'll start learning things, today I just want you to think about what I've said, come up with vague ideas. Okay?"

The students all slowly blinked dazedly. their mouths hanging open slightly. Stiles glanced around and frowned. "Is something wrong?" They all shook their heads still stunned. He raised an eyebrow. "So move then." They all quickly got up, wandering around to form their groups.

Stiles leaned back into his chair and brought out his laptop, while overlooking the class. That was how the rest of the period was spent, the students discussing amongst themselves while he watched over them.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles glanced up from his laptop as the bell signalled the end of day. He smiled and waved his class out, returning his attention back to his screen, engrossed in the article he was reading. He looked up as footsteps came to a standstill in front of him, casting a shadow over his screen. He looked up and slowly blinked, frowning as he straightened up, his eyes darting from student to student. "Is something wrong?"

Isaac quickly shook his head. "No, it's just that what you told us today, the way you said it, it was–"

"Amazing!" Scott said as he bounced on his toes, his eyes wide and his smile warm and bright. Everyone nodded, even Jackson and he was that kid was never impressed or at least never vocalized it because you know he's a little shit.

The teacher smiled. "Thank you."

"I can't wait for tomorrow!" Scott said excitedly.

Stiles smiled. "I'm glad all of you are so invested even though we haven't touched on anything yet."

"It's different. You're different from the rest of the teachers here. It's the way you talk about this course, the amount of emotion you put in to it. Even though it's been only two days, we've felt it and that's what makes us so willing to learn." Boyd stated quietly.

Stiles gaped. "Wow, that's probably the most flattering thing anyone has ever said to me, and it came from a 16 year old boy, who is my student...wow people suck. Or maybe my life is just shitty."

Boyd offered him a tiny amused smile and nodded. "Goodbye Mr. Stilinski."

"Bye Boyd! Bye everyone!" He waved as everyone left the room. He smiled, happy and elated. He kicked up his feet and leaned back against his chair, cupping the back of his head, damn he was good.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles quickly shoved his things into his bag. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so lost in his reading that he'd stayed hours after school. He glanced outside of the window and groaned. The sun was setting. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned off the lights, hurrying to the entrance of the school. This was awesome. He was following every cliché in a horror movie, in a town where murder ran rampant like rats during the plague. Seriously, he was not about to become part of the weekly murder percentage rate in this shitty town. Not before he got some–wait did virgins die in horror movies? If not well then–Stiles paused. What was that? He strained his ears, there it was again. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, focusing on the sound. He quickly opened his eyes, his head jerked up.

Whimpering.

He could walk away, just go home and you know, not die. Stiles nodded. That was an awesome plan, probably the one that would save him–and he was walking towards the sound.

Great.

Damn his inability to leave shit alone! He knew it would come to bite him the ass, but in his defense, he'd never factored in that he would be in a town that actually _was _a horror movie though. Huh. Next time he would factor that in.

Stiles stopped and glanced down the creepy, dark, foreboding 'this is where I will die' hallway. He probably shouldn't walk down the hallway–and his feet were already moving.

Fuck.

He glanced around looking for the source of the cries, his eyes wandering aimlessly, until they settled on a stack of curly blond hair. Wedged between the tiny space that separated two rows of lockers, Isaac sat, huddled down into himself, his head buried into his knees. Stiles quickly ran towards him, dropping down to the floor as he reached out and gently cupped the teen's shoulder. "Isaac?" Stiles carefully eased his head out his knees and his stomach plummeted. The teen's eyes wide and fearful darted around frantically, his body convulsing with shudders.

"Sorry, sorry I'm sorry Dad d-don't put me in there. I'll be good, I promise. Don't put me in there. It's dark and small and I can't breathe. Don't put me in there."

Stiles swallowed down the nausea swimming in his stomach and tenderly cradled his face between his hands. He forced Isaac's gaze onto him and spoke softly, his tone placid and soothing. "Isaac, whatever you're seeing isn't real. Okay? It's me, Mr. Stilinski. Keep your eyes on me and listen to me."

Isaac's gaze slowly focused on him but the shudders continued.

He licked his lips. "When I was little, I used to get panic attacks. I'd have trouble breathing and I couldn't control my body. My hands would shake and the world would slow down. This pressure would press against my chest stopping me from breathing, and I knew it wasn't real but it wouldn't help. Sometimes it would get so bad that I'd black out, because my body couldn't get enough air and it would shut down. So I understand how afraid you are but it's not real. Whatever you're seeing isn't real. We're at the school, past normally healthy hours, seriously though way past normal hours considered to be healthy to the psyche."

"M-Mr. Stilinski?" Isaac's voice was nothing but a whisper, small and barely audible.

Stiles smiled. "Hey buddy."

Isaac quickly launched himself into Stiles' chest. Stiles blinked and brought his hands around him and rubbed Isaac's back. "It's okay, you're okay," Stiles muttered softly.

"Isaac!"

Stiles jerked his head towards the sound, his grip on Isaac tightening as feet stomped down the hallway. A few seconds later, Scott and the rest of his friends appeared.

Scott's eyes widened. "Mr. Stilinski?! Don't touch him! It's dangerous!" He quickly ran towards–

"_Stop_." Scott froze, Stiles narrowed his eyes and returned his focus back to the teen in his arms. "Isaac, are you okay now?" The head nestled in his chest nodded and slowly he removed himself from Stiles. The older man got up and brought Isaac up with him.

Isaac offered him a small smile. "Thank you."

Stiles nodded. "Do you need to go to a hospital?"

Isaac shook his head. "No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Stiles nodded and turned to look at the others. "Okay, now that I've done my concerned adult duty, what the hell are any of you doing here? There is no way that you could have known Isaac was here, he was in no condition to call for any of you. So explain to me; how Isaac ended up here and how you knew he was here?" Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm waiting."

All of them stiffened, Lydia smiled sharply. "We checked everywhere for him and we got lucky."

Stiles' eyebrow rose. "How long has he been missing for?"

"An hour!" Scott quickly butted in. Jackson face palmed and everyone groaned.

"So I'm supposed to believe that in one hour you checked everywhere? And so how was the school a plausible location at all? I may have given you the benefit of the doubt, but this town isn't so small that you'd be able to scour it within an hour." Stiles stared at the teens impassively, he smiled. "So you want to either, try a believable lie or the truth? But in my honest opinion, I think you should go for the truth, because none of you can lie very well."

The teens silently stared at him. "You know what? I think I do need to go to the hospital!" Isaac quickly said.

Scott jumped. "I'll drive!"

"All of us will go!" Danny said and smiled.

Stiles spluttered. "Wait! You–" He watched as all of the teens bolted down the hallway, damn it! He grumbled to himself, and whirled around to pick up his bag, the one he'd dropped as soon as he'd seen Isaac. He reached for his bag. He'd figure this out. He stopped as he noticed something from the corner of his eye, wait what was that? He shoved his bag out of the way and trailed his fingers over the grooves in the floor. Claw marks? He looked up and found more on the edges of the lockers where Isaac was wedged. He let his fingers lightly run over the marks frowning. Stiles leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles' fingers trailed over the black leather tome, his hands lightly brushing against the carvings. Archaic Latin, _The Book of Creatures_. Inside, the pages would be yellowed with age, pictures of grotesque and beautiful creatures were housed, the colors vibrant in some, others dark.

Thoughts circled in his head as he thumbed the book open, his eyes moving over the pages he flipped. Glowing eyes. Howls. Claw marks. Sightings of a black monstrous creature that resembled a wolf but couldn't be because wolves couldn't be so big.

He stopped as reached the particular page.

_Lycanthrope._


End file.
